


even if it takes all night, or a hundred years

by Anonymous



Series: oh i hope some day i'll make it out of here [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Angst, Child Abuse, Eventual Fluff, Exile, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Refereced Child Abuse, Manipulation, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Suicide Attempt, Villain Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Tubbo (Video Blogging RPF), Whump, au where phil gives a shit, except for ranboo <3, he's a bastard, technoblade has a heart, the cabinet are all shitheads basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: What would've happened if Dream had found Tommy underneath the cabin in the tundra before Techno did?
Relationships: Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: oh i hope some day i'll make it out of here [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140764
Comments: 29
Kudos: 146
Collections: Anonymous





	even if it takes all night, or a hundred years

**Author's Note:**

> I WILL BE IGNORING RECENT EVENTS IN CANON FOR MY OWN SANITY AND ALSO C!DREAM CAN FUCKING SUCK IT :,)
> 
> this is actually a prequel to the first fic in this series, known as 'isn't it lovely, all alone' which is ranboo-centric if you're interested and YES im very proud of how the titles all line up really well :)))

To say Techno was tired after the Butcher Army fiasco was an understatement.

The almost-execution would’ve been enough to set most seasoned warriors on edge, and Technoblade was no different, huffing in pure exhaustion as he opened the door to his cottage after stowing Carl away, intending to collapse onto his mattress and stay there forever.

Shrugging off his cloak as soon as he entered the pleasant spruce and concrete house, Techno went to dig around in his chests for food of any kind. Something decent to eat, settling on baked potatoes he’d found in the kitchen cabinet. Probably a little stale but he didn’t care at that point.

It was unnerving how quiet the voices had grown. Chat usually never shut up after things like this happened and that worried him. While it meant a moment of peace, it also usually preceded something very bad.

“Chat?” he mumbled. “What’s goin’ on?”

**RACCOONINNIT tommy!! E little brother pog tommyinnit rACCOON TIME POG STOP SNITCHING**

Techno was sure that there was meaning behind the garble, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was yet. No matter. He’d find out in due time.

When a knock sounded at the door while he was halfway through his potato, Techno did not flinch. He definitely did not nearly drop his plate.

**OH NO DREAM SHIT BAD /RAINBOW CHAT E DREAM BAD NOT POG FUCK**

When he opened the door, his greeting was already on his lips. “Hey Dream,” he muttered lowly.

The eyes of the mas met his own. “Nice to see you again Techno. Heard you ran into some…trouble.”

“Nothin’ I can’t deal with.” He moved aside to let him into his house somewhat begrudgingly. “How’s uh…” He trailed off, unsure exactly of what literal gods did in their spare time. “Life?” he finished. “Heard you’ve been busy with Tommy.”

**NO NO NO NO SHUT UP TECHNOSHUT FUCK ME TECHNOBRO RACCOONINNIT DREAM IS A BASTARD**

Dream grimaced. “Actually, that’s what I was here for. Tommy’s gone missing from his exile. I, uh, need to find him again.” A short, clipped laugh. “You don’t mind me snooping around, do you?”

Techno frowned. “I’m not the kind of person to hide runaways, Dream.”

“I know that. But Tommy’s…he’s pretty good at hiding stuff. And himself.”

Okay well that was weird. Just a little bit. Enough to make Techno question some stuff. “I mean…”

**TECH-NO DON’T DO IT FUCK DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

Chat _really_ hated Dream today. “I don’t really have anything against you lookin’ through some stuff.” The voices wailed, their volume steadily increasing, and Techno had to fight back a wince. “Just don’t mess anythin’ up.”

Dream nodded once. “Thank you, Techno. This means a lot to me.”

Techno smirked. “Enough to pay back that favour?”

He hesitated. “Not quite.”

No. No, he didn’t think it would. Techno stood back to watch Dream rummage through barrels and chests, even check the space underneath the couch as if Techno wouldn’t have noticed a 6’3” gremlin hiding there.

“There’s a few more levels if you wanna check.”

A nod. He went straight downstairs, Techno trailing behind, still slightly out of it as chat continued to rage at him. “Nice basement.” There wasn’t anything behind the villagers or wedged between the chests. Nothing behind the paintings either.

Techno debated on showing him the secondary basement.

**tech-no! don’t! FUCK OFF DREAM protect innit FUCK DREAM protect innit BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

Part of him was curious as to what exactly could’ve driven Tommy from exile to _here._ Him going back to L’Manberg would’ve made a lot more sense but Techno was the person who set two Withers on his nation just after his first exile had concluded.

One would’ve thought Tommy considered Techno an enemy at that point.

“Hey, Tech?”

“Yeah?” His eyes and attention snapped to the mask which stared emptily down at a certain stone brick.

“Is there something underneath here?” he asked calmly, emotionlessly.

**F U C K**

Shrugging in answer, he leaned against the wall. “Useful for storin’ shit. You’re welcome to look if you’d like.”

**NO NO NO NO NO NO NO**

What did chat mean by ‘no’? Was Tommy seriously hiding _under_ his house? Even after everything they’ve done to each other?

As Dream dropped down into the second basement, something small, gnarled and worrying began to grow in Techno’s gut. Small at first, digging its claws and roots into his flesh and not letting go quite yet. He didn’t have a good feeling about this, and in the state he was in without most of his good tools and armour, Techno didn’t think he could take Dream on.

So he went down as well, deliberately clicking his heels every meter or so on the stone floor, trying to gauge any weak spots. Tommy was a smart kid some of the time, but he made little mistakes like these far too often.

“So, uh,” Techno began, almost trying to stall, “how’ve things been with L’Manberg.” Not that he cared in any way. He needed something to take Dream’s mind off of Tommy.

 _If_ Tommy was there.

**TECHNOBRO POG E TECHNOBRO FUCK YEAH CHAT NO SNITCHING TECHNOBRO BIG BROTHER TECHNO PROTECTINNIT**

If only chat would shut up.

Dream laughed, short and monotonous, uninterested. “A wreck. Their cabinet’s been falling apart since Tommy’s exile started and your near-execution is only gonna make things worse for them." He huffed out a short breath. “Especially considering how they failed.”

Now, Techno wasn’t one to turn his nose up to some anarchy. Hell, he was usually the perpetrator of such acts. But there was something vaguely wrong about Dream’s demeanour here. Something horribly off. Dream was too cold, too distant, too guarded. And if this was about Tommy’s exile as well…

It set his teeth on edge. He didn’t like it at all.

**K ICK HIM OUT TECHNOLEAVE RUN GO BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

There was silence for a while. Cold, empty silence that just brought Techno even more anxiety. He couldn’t even bring himself to grab another baked potato as he watched Dream methodically tap against the stones of the floor with his pickaxe. A hunter, is what Techno’s mind equated him to. A hunter on the search for his prey.

_Tap, tap, tap._

This wouldn’t end well.

**PROTECT TOMMY OH NO GUYS HE KNOWS TECHNOBAD TECHNOWRONG TECHNOLEAVE PROTECTINNIT S TO P SNITCHING CHAT**

“If Tommy went missing recently, I’d probably know,” Techno lied. Untrue; he’d been out netherite mining for the last couple of days, and even if Tommy had snuck in that day, he hadn’t the energy or mental capacity to check through his chests. “Little gremlin likes stealin’ my stuff, yanno? He leaves his marks.”

And truth be told, Techno hadn’t noticed _any_ of Tommy’s little marks.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Dream hummed. “Better to be safe than sorry. Don’t want him to go back to L’Manberg after all.”

All said in a joking manner but with an undercurrent of a threat pulsating from beneath the words. The meaning was clear. If Tommy was found near L’Manberg, bad things would happen to him.

As complex as Techno’s feelings were for him, he didn’t feel like attending a sixteen-year-old’s funeral.

**SOBBING AND WAILING PLEASE NO DON’T KILL HIM KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

“Right.” He shifted. “You nearly done? I wanna go to bed.”

“Not yet.” _Tap, tap, tap._ The sound was getting annoying. _Tap, tap—_

Dream froze. Tapped again. The sound was different.

** S H I T F U C K N O **

Hollow. There was a pocket of air underneath that block of stone and Techno’s stomach went cold. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Not exactly like he cared for Tommy at that point. “Huh.”

The stone was mined away quickly. A hole with a ladder propped up against the uneven wall, lead down into a cavern. “You’ll be able to go to bed soon enough, Techno,” Dream said curtly.

There was a smile in his tone.

They descended down the ladder. “Guess I have a third basement now,” Techno mused, looking around at the yellow walls that weren’t at all properly made. The whole place looked messy, unkempt, fragile. As if a small earthquake would be enough to send it caving.

**RACCOONINNIT RACCOON POG TOMMY NO PROTECTINNIT TECHNOBRO HE’S NOT THERE NO ONE SAY ANYTHING**

His eyes scanned the little room, snagging on the haphazardly placed chests, the door set into the wall which Techno was sure was an exit, the crafting bench, the rocky floor and finally, the bed.

Underneath the threadbare red sheets was a lump. He frowned to himself, distinctly remembering how Tommy’s under-the-cover-lumps were usually bigger.

He took a step toward it just as Dream rushed over. “Tommy?” he asked, frantic, shaking the bundle.

**GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU PIECE OF SHIT DREAM NO NOT POG NOT POG BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD KILL DREAM NOT POG PROTECTINNIT TECHNOBRO TECHNOBRO**

His concern felt out of place. Wrong, considering the threat he’d uttered not even ten minutes ago. But Techno felt it too. It was far too cold down here, far too damp and chilly.

“Dream, I don’t think—”

But he was interrupted by the child jerking awake with a gasp. His eyes found Dream first and he-

He flinched backwards violently, back slamming against the wall as his breaths came in sharp, erratic bursts. Dream cocked his head at Tommy, only getting closer and Techno felt something sharp and fearful grow in his gut. This wasn’t good. Not in the slightest.

TommyInnit never flinched. TommyInnit never cowered.

**SADGE HEAD IN HANDS NOT LIKE THIS WHY WHY DON’T LET HIM GO PROTECTINNIT**

“D-Dream,” he whispered, hugging himself tightly, big grey eyes (since _when_?) flicking down onto the sheets. “Dream, I c-can explain,” he began, anxious, desperate, tears beginning to appear in his eyes.

But Dream just rushed forward and Techno’s hand went to where his sword should’ve been, a gut feeling propelling him forward to stop Dream from—

**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

Hugging him?

**MANIPULATIVE B A S T A R D**

But there he was, green-clad arms wrapped around the shaking boy, cooing and rocking him back and forth. “I was so worried for you!” he hissed. “I thought you’d been killed! God, Tommy, you can’t just _do_ that to people who care for you.”

**I HATE HIM I HATE HIM HEAD IN HANDS CHAT WHY TECH-NO**

This was odd. More than odd, actually. The man who’d regarded Tommy with such cool indifference, the man who’d apparently killed Tommy twice now, who’d exiled him and tormented him was hugging him now. Tightly. Saying that he cared for this kid, that he missed him.

What in the Nether was going on?

Techno saw the look in Tommy’s eyes, nothing short of absolutely terrified. Afraid, even in the embrace of a self-proclaimed friend, still shaking within this hug, wide eyes focusing on nothing. At some point they skimmed over him in shock.

Eventually, and with a tight grip on his wrist, Dream pulled away, tugging Tommy to his feet. “Come on now.” His tone was harsh. Techno ground his teeth together. “Say sorry to Techno for taking his things and ruining his house, grab your shit and then we can go back home.”

He didn’t miss the way Tommy’s face crumpled, the way he feebly tried to pull his hand out of the solid grip, the way he was standing as far away from Dream as he could. “Dr-Dream, _please,_ I-I d-don’t— _please don’t hurt_ —”

**HEART BEEN BROKE FUCK ME THIS SUCK THIS SUCKS SO MUCH TECHNOBRO PROTECT HIM HE’S SO SCARED PROTECT HIM KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

“Tommy,” Dream gritted out. “Do as I say for _once._ You’re already in enough trouble as it is.”

Tears slipped, unbidden, down pale, hollow cheeks. Tommy looked fragile, malnourished and as white as a sheet. A living ghost, with the bruises under his eyes and the grey iris’s that seemed to look through them. “I’m sorry, I’m sor-sorry, Dream.”

**HE’S C R Y I N G**

Something was horribly wrong. Techno couldn’t let Tommy leave.

“Tommy!” Dream snapped, and he shut up. Tommy just stopped talking. Freezing, paralysing worry shot through Techno’s body. “We can talk when we get home.”

But when he turned, Techno was blocking the entrance. “Actually, I think,” he drawled, masking every emotion running through his veins, “that I have the right to deal with the little raccoon, here. Considerin’ the fact that this is kinda _my_ property.”

**YE S TECHNOBRO TECHNOBRO PROTECTINNIT I KNEW IT YOU GUYS TECHNOBRO KICK DREAM’S ASS TECHNOBRO WE LOVE YOU FUCK YEAH KILL HIM TECHNOBRO**

He locked eyes with Tommy. Too late to turn back now.

Dream stood his ground, expression impossible to gauge. “You really won’t let me go, huh Techno?”

“Nope. Glad we can stay transparent with this, though.”

Dream scoffed. “Tommy is under my care.”

“Yeah, and he’s in _my_ house.” Tommy stared down at the floor. “You’re free to leave, Dream.”

“Hmph.” But this was Dream, and Dream _always_ had something up his obnoxiously green sleeves. “So would this be a good time to call on that favour, Techno? You believe in absolute reciprocity, after all.”

**NO NO NO N O NO NONONONONO TEHCNNO NO NO PLEASE NO NO YOU CAN’T TECHNO NO DON’T DO THIS NO FUCK DREAM KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD DON’T GIVE HIM UP NOT LIKE THIS NOT LIKE THIS**

The silence was thick with tension.

Here were the facts:

Tommy betrayed Techno by re-establishing a government. Tommy had used Techno. Tommy hadn’t cared enough to check up on Techno later. Tommy never liked him very much. Techno had gone to make fun of Tommy during his first night of exile. Tommy had come into his house, had desecrated his property, had stolen his things. Techno was unable to fight in the state he was in.

**THOSE ARE STUPID REASONS PROTECTINNIT**

The facts didn’t lie. Ever.

(Sometimes they did.)

But was Techno ready to ignore them for the sake of a kid who wanted to use him yet again for safety? Was Techno really willing to lose a powerful ally for the sake of some sixteen-year-old who was finally receiving the consequences to his actions?

The answer, in his mind which was addled by restlessness and weariness, was clear.

“You’re right,” he said gruffly. And slowly, avoiding Tommy’s gaze, he stepped out of the way, shoulders loosening in relief ~~horror at what he’d just done oh gods forgive him~~. “Fine then. No more is owed between us after this.”

** N O TECHNNO WHY HEAD IN HANDS HEAD IN HANDS WHY THIS SUCKS NO NOT TO DREAM KILL DREAM KILL DREAM KILL DREAM KILL DREAM BASTARD MANIPULATOR TOMMY’S SO SAD KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD KILL DREAM NO WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT NO HEAD IN HANDS NOT LIKE THIS WHY WHY DID YOU DO THIS I HATE YOU TECHNO WHY NOT POG NOT FUCKING POG **

Techno refused to react to the tears running steadily down Tommy’s face at that point, gritting his teeth against the screaming match in his head.

“Great!” The sudden noise made Tommy start. “So I’ll be taking Tommy home now, and—”

“I wanna talk to him,” Techno deadpanned.

The smile slipped from Dream’s voice. “What?”

Techno nodded at Tommy. “I wanna talk to him. Privately,” he added, stressing that last word. “I wanna know what he took and how much it was.”

Dream looked between the exit and Techno helplessly, seemingly torn between running and staying to adhere to Techno’s demand.

It was a solid minute and a half later, when Dream sighed deeply, wrenching Tommy forward and letting go of him to watch him stumble awkwardly to stop himself from falling. “Fine. Be quick.” He pushed past them both to the ladder and clambered up, lips pursed with agitation.

**YOU’RE STILL DEAD TO US OHO IS THERE HOPE??? HOPE NOW HOPE YEAH KILL DREAM KEEP TOMMY FUCK THE FAVOUR**

The two that were left behind looked at each other. Stared and stared.

“Tommy.” Techno took a careful step forward, nearly stopping at the way he recoiled.

“H-hi Technoblade.” Tommy took a step back. Techno’s eyes zeroed in on the slight limp, stemming from a wound on his uncovered right foot. “I’m so-sorry for taking your-your stuff,” he said nervously, hands shaking as he began to open and empty out his chests. “Pl-please wait, I-I’ll give it ba-back to you.”

**I HATE THIS HEAD IN HANDS WHY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM**

Techno stared in shock at the shell of this kid that he’d known to be so vibrant, so full of fire and personality, reduced to this trembling husk of child. Small and injured and tired, judging by the prominent circles under his eyes. Now that he was closer, Techno actually got a good look at him. He didn’t like what he saw.

The bruises that littered his skin pockmarked it in an ugly portrait of abuse, paint and brushstrokes only sparing colours like sickly yellow and green as well as mottled purple and blue. There were burns as well. His clothing seemed to be singed. Underneath the red and white tatters that were once a shirt, he made out blisters and reddish skin, as well as more damaged areas that needed to be treated _now._

He had half a mind to do it himself. Gods, if only Phil were here.

“Tommy,” Techno started, but Tommy just cringed away, hands immediately going up to shield his face. Techno paused, unsure of what was causing this reaction. The feeling in his stomach, that horrid stab of anxiety, grew stronger.

To be fair, Techno blew up his country and sicked a Wither (or two) on him. He’d be surprised if Tommy wasn’t afraid of him. But this fear seemed to run deeper. Truer. It felt wrong in every way. It made his skin crawl and his voices throb with raging anger.

“S-sorry, thi-this’ll only t-take a minute.”

**:((((((**

Finally, when all of the stuff he’d taken (golden apples and other food items he hadn’t touched, a nearly broken diamond sword, leather boots, some ender pearls, gold blocks, which were intended for decoration most likely) had been deposited at Techno’s feet, Tommy hovered around anxiously, hands in his pockets. “Tommy,” Techno began lowly, because he never knew how to start these conversations. “Is there anything you wanna tell me?”

This seemed to take him by surprise, making him automatically shake his head ‘no’. He swallowed. “Act-actually.” Tommy dug around in his pockets, producing a bunch of crumpled photos and a compass, “cou-could you h-hold onto th-these for me?”

**PLEASE I’LL CRY TUBBO’S COMPASS YOUR TUBBO**

Techno squinted at the items. Unassuming, other than the compass that glowed with enchantment magic. Maybe a lodestone compass? But why would Tommy give it to Techno? Nevertheless, he took it from the boy gently, examining the dulled metal once.

_Your Tubbo._

The engraving on the back, the way the needle pointed to L’Manberg. Techno bit his lip. It was invaluable to Tommy. Why give it to Techno? Trust hadn’t been built up for him to keep something so precious.

“Why’d you want me to have it?” he asked gruffly.

Tommy ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I d-don’t want it being des-destroyed,” he forced out, grimacing.

**FUCK DREAM FUCK THAT GREEN PIECE OF BASTARD SHIT**

The unasked question hung in the air. ‘ _By what?_ ’ Rather, by who?

He forced it down. Better not to, especially when he looked so close to tears. Instead, he stuffed them in his pocket as gently as he could, intending to leave the items in his ender chest for extra precautions. “Well,” Techno said awkwardly. “You look injured. You want me to look at that for you?”

“Hm?” The haze in his eyes was worrying to say the least. Not good in the slightest. Techno sighed internally.

“Your foot,” he elaborated. “What happened to it?”

The kid froze, swallowing thickly. “N-nothing you hav-have to worry a-about big ma-man.”

**WORRY ABOUT IT TECHNOWORRY**

A creased appeared between Techno’s eyebrows. A wound like that could get infected and bring terrible sickness to the victim. Tommy could die in the state he was, half-starved and frozen and tired. His body literally would not be able to fight back.

“Tommy—”

“Time’s up!” Dream yelled. Tommy flinched so hard he nearly hit the wall behind him.

**N O FUCK OFF**

Techno winced on his behalf. “Hang on a minute,” he growled, cautiously walking forward as if he were approaching an injured animal. He held his arms around in front of him, an obvious invitation that Tommy didn’t quite seem to understand yet, the haze getting in the way.

“Wh-what are you…?”

“C’mon.” Techno beckoned at him. “I won’t bite ya.” When Tommy continued to stare at him blankly, Techno rolled his eyes. “Have you forgotten what a hug is?”

“Oh.”

Tommy stumbled forward uncertainly, drawing his stick-thin arms around Techno’s torso in a display that felt unnatural almost, but he seemingly melted into the soft cotton of Techno’s shirt, trembling underneath his arms. The height difference wasn’t too bad. Enough for Techno to whisper in his ear. “Message me if you have any trouble,” he murmured. “I’ll try an’ help you out.”

**TECHNOBRO TECHNOBRO** **TECHNOBRO TECHNOBRO TECHNOBRO TECHNOBRO TECHNOBRO**

“Why?” Tommy breathed, the single word barely even there, dissipating along with the stale air down here.

Techno just hugged him tighter. “I-Phil would kill me if I didn’t.” There. A safe lie. Maybe it wouldn’t be best to detach himself completely from the boy, but the moment Dream caught wind of this, he would find some way to use it against Techno.

He was tired of being a weapon.

But Tommy nodded all the same, something new glinting in those silvery eyes. “O-okay.”

Dream poked his head down now, looking agitated. “Tommy! Come on.” Techno reckoned he’d never seen Tommy climb up a ladder quite as fast, barely flinching as his damaged foot was overused.

**CLAW THAT MASK OFF HIS STUPID FACE BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

They all congregated at Techno’s front door. Dream had a tight grip around Tommy’s shoulders. “Thank you for everything, Techno. Absolute reciprocity, eh?”

Techno did not repeat his words, inclining his head to show he knew. But his gaze was fixated on Tommy who shook and shivered, covered by one of Techno’s old cloaks he’d insisted on him taking through the weather. Who was Dream to resist the Blood God?

“See ya ‘round.” Techno leaned against the doorframe. “Come visit sometime.”

“We’ll see.” That was code for no. They wouldn’t be visiting. Techno wasn’t sure if he could visit Tommy either.

**DON’T LET THEM GO DON’T DO IT TECHNO TECHNO NO NO DON’T DO IT FUCK NO PLEASE PROTECTINNIT**

They’d see.

He waited until their outlines had been obscured by the trees and the white snow until he shut the door on them.

The Blood God didn’t sleep a wink that night.

* * *

The next three weeks were…bad.

Techno ambled aimlessly around his too-big house, sound echoing off the walls and floorboards. The place was heartlessly empty, save for Phil’s occasional visits, and he couldn’t help but regret his decisions in this all-encompassing, suffocating privacy.

The Blood God was a quiet man, but his voices were loud. And the way they screamed after Dream’s visit split his head in two.

_( **WHY WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TECHNOWHY TECHNOBAD TECHNOBRO HEART BEEN BROKE HE WAS SO SCARED WHY HE WAS TERRIFIED TECHNOBAD WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS KILL DREAM TECHNOKILL TECHNOBRO WHY** )_

He’d told Phil about it. He told Phil about everything, and that had cut his visit unfortunately short as he immediately went outside with a hurried apology and flew all the way to Logstedshire to be with Tommy.

It hurt. He deserved it. Because he could rest a little easier knowing Tommy could talk to Phil at least.

He was fairly sure Tommy hated him. But it didn’t matter.

(It did. It mattered a lot.)

**hey chat it’s missing tommy hours oh the regretti /rainbow chat blood for the blood god chat im so sad rn blood for the blood god KILL DREAM /rainbow chat**

In the small amount of time Techno had spare after moping and doing menial tasks (he didn’t sleep so much these days), he spent plotting on how to get his armour and weapons back from L’Manberg. It would be too much of a hassle to go mining for more netherite.

Obviously, he had backup sets, but that was what they were. Only backups, specifically for emergencies, not the originals which were far more powerful. At least he wouldn’t die to a creeper of all things. That would be embarrassing.

**oho it’s the boy??? hey chat shut up no snitching chat /rainbow chat technowhy blood for the blood god blood for the blood god**

Sighing and looking out at the darkening landscape, Techno lumbered to his kitchen in hopes of trying to make something. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rut considering how little he cared about Tommy (shaky hands, terrified eyes, too thin, too bruised and battered, what had happened to him). It shouldn’t have been taking up so much of his life.

_(“Mate,” Phil begun reproachfully, after his first visit to Logsted, “why’d you hand him off to Dream?” He’d come back with haunted eyes and a strained voice._

_Techno shrugged, feeling the aching behind his eyes come back full force as chat yelled a steady beat of_ kill, kill, kill _, banging against his skull louder and louder. He sucked in a sharp breath, kneading his temples. “I owed him a favour,” he muttered, as if it could excuse the crime he’d committed, as if it would explain anything at all._

_As if it would wipe the expression of grief and betrayal from his father-figure’s eyes. “Do you—” He paused to clear his throat thickly. “Do you want to hear from him?”_

_Because of_ course _Tommy had a message for him. Of course he did. Of course he would pass it on through Phil and not directly to Techno. Because Tommy hated him, didn’t he?_

_It wasn’t cowardice, Techno told himself fiercely when he replied with, “No.” It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t a coward._

_But deep down, he knew he was.)_

No. That was a terrible thing to reminisce on right now, in his already fragile mental state. He needed to focus on getting his stuff back so that he could go and-and—

And what?

The answer had been on the tip of his tongue. But it was the wrong answer. Techno wanted to blow L’Manberg up, not…not—

Did he seriously want to go rescue Tommy?

**yes you dO YOU BUFFOON go help tommy!!! help the child help the child he’s sad help him go rescue technoprotect protectinnit**

No! No, he didn’t. Tommy hated Techno. The feeling was mutual actually.

(It wasn’t.)

Techno huffed impatiently, abandoning all prospects of getting food and instead, taking the time to pace around his house in silent fury at himself. He needed to get a grip on this for Dragon’s sake, he needed to—

What was that?

**don’t snitch chat don’t snitch snitchers get STITCHES CHAT NO SNITCHING IT’S THE BOY ARMOUR POG??? OH IT’S HE BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD MEMORY BOY!!**

To human ears, nothing. But he heard it loud and clear. The sound of footsteps, light and quick, maybe even a little nervous, on stone and then on grass, being muffled by the snow. He checked the clock, whistling quietly. Whoever it was either had a shit sleep schedule or…or they didn’t want Techno to be awake for whatever the heck they were about to do.

Well this wasn’t right. Techno was not about to be robbed for the third damn time.

**GO BACK INSIDE DON’T LOOK IT’S A SURPRISE TECHNO NO DON’T LOOK TECHNO**

Slipping on his backup set and grabbing his pickaxe, he went downstairs and out the other entrance as quietly as he could, sneaking around the front of the house to where he knew the person had disappeared off to.

His first thought was _enderman._ The figure was tall, hunched over something that looked like a chest, rummaging through it quickly. Not one of Techno’s chests either. It took another second to register the purple glow of enchantment that covered its body. Endermen couldn’t wear armour now.

Wait. No, they could. Well, only _one_ of them could.

Technoblade could most definitely take this kid on with just a pickaxe and his bad set of armour. He wasn’t too fussed about his chances. But what the hell was Ranboo doing here? Ranboo literally tried to kill him only a few weeks ago!

**DON’T HURT HIM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD DON’T HURT HIM TECHNO PROTECTBOO DON’T HURT HIM NO DON’T DO IT HE’S HELPING BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

(He hadn’t done much honestly. Just sat back, looking horrified the whole time.)

The kid was so absorbed in whatever he was doing that he didn’t even notice Techno sneak up on him, only a block or two away before he struck.

It went down in about three seconds. Techno lunged forward and hooked his pickaxe around Ranboo’s waist, tugging him backwards and twisting around and pushing him so he fell on his back before planting a foot firmly onto his chest. Quick, clean and simple.

**TECHNOBAD TECHNOWRONG TECHNOAWFUL WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS STAY AWAY FROM HIM**

A gasp left his mouth and his hands immediately, instead of reaching for his weapon which was right _there,_ went, palms up, on either side of his head in the universal sign of surrender.

“Why are you here?” Techno growled.

Ranboo flinched, breathing coming in faster. “I-I—”

**SNOW BE CAREFUL THE WATER OMG THE WATER LET HIM GO**

There was a piece of paper on top of the chest. Techno snagged it and held it up. The threads of light coming from his house was enough to illuminate the note.

_Hi,_

_Sorry for the whole execution thing. I didn’t really want to do it, but I got pressured into it anyway. I thought not giving you any kind of trial was wrong and I really hope we can be allies someday._

_Here’s your armour. I’m not sure where Tubbo keeps the weapons he took from you, but I’ll try and find them out._

_~ Ranboo_

Sur enough, when he peeked under the lid, he saw all four pieces of shimmering netherite underneath, nestled in linen. How this lanky kid had carried all of this here by himself, he wasn’t sure.

“What’s this?” he asked roughly, pushing the edge of the pickaxe into the soft skin of his neck.

Ranboo froze up, visibly trembling. “I w-wanted to-to give you your st-stuff back.”

**PROTECT THE BOY AT ALL COSTS**

No. This wasn’t right. He had been _part_ of the execution. “Why?” Techno demanded. “Why shouldn’t I just kill you right now?”

**THAT’S NOT WHAT WE M E A N**

Maybe a little harsh, but who could blame him?

“I d-don’t know,” Ranboo choked out, face scrunching up in—Ah, Techno heard the sizzle of burning skin and remembered, very clearly, Ranboo’s aversion to water. The snow must’ve been melting into his jacket and seeping through onto his skin. Not ideal for an enderman. “Jus-just—”

It wasn’t so much a plea for his life as it was a plea to make his death quick and painless. A depressing thought for someone barely older than Tommy (he _really_ needed to stop thinking about Tommy), but such was life.

**HE’S HURT JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE LET HIM GO TECHNOBAD TECHNOBAD GET OFF OF HIM HE’S HURTING STOP IT TE C H N O**

Techno paused for a moment and weighed his options. Ranboo was lying there, pleading for a quick death. Not even about to fight back, presumably because of the guilt he was overrun with. He was afraid and anxious and would be indebted to Techno if he let him go. A cruel way of thinking about things like these, but he wasn’t particularly one to care.

So slowly, Techno moved the pickaxe away, keeping his foot firmly on Ranboo’s chest, right over his pearl. “You’re gonna get up,” he snarled, “you’re gonna turn away, you’re gonna run back to L’Manberg and you’re never gonna tell _anyone_ what happened here. Do you understand?”

A shaky nod, relief shining in his mismatched eyes and half-and half face as Techno removed his boot. “O-okay, tha-thank you s-so much, Technoblade, I—”

“Scram!”

**TECHNOMEAN TECHNOBAD THIS SUCKS DON’T HURT MEMORY BOY HOW DARE YOU LOOK HE’S SCARED TECHNOBAD**

That was enough to get the kid moving, jolting to his feet and sprinting away with a slight limp on one leg. Water had soaked right through his pants and had to have been burning him.

Techno winced on his behalf, grabbing the armour from the chest to lug inside. His methods were a little harsh, but so was survival. Still, he was a little grateful for Ranboo being some kind of man on the inside. Maybe he could get the kid to come over and give him more information if he was so easily swayed like that.

**T E C H N O B A D W HAT ARE YOU DOING**

The train of thought stopped there. Phil wouldn’t like the idea of taking advantage of an amnesiac, much less a teenager, in that way.

**DADZA POG**

And now his train of thought had drifted onto Tommy for some reason and he felt something sharp in his chest. Dragon, _why_ hadn’t he just given him a healing pot for his leg while he was right here? Why hadn’t he hidden it under the folds of the cloak, or passed it onto him discretely during that hug?

Why hadn’t he kept Tommy there, in his cottage, far from Dream?

**RESCUEINNIT TOMMYTROUBLE BROTHERINNIT TECHNOBRO RESCUEINNIT KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

“Shut up, chat,” he mumbled, closing the door behind him. “I get you’re sad but you gotta move past it now.”

He knew they wouldn’t. Neither would he.

* * *

A few hours’ trek away, Tommy was not doing well at all.

(Dream had thrown him to the ground upon arrival. He’d curled up defensively, breath stuttering as his heart pounded against his chest. “ _Every time_ I ask you to do something,” he began viciously, stalking closer and looming right above, “you go off and _immediately_ throw a fucking tantrum about it.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so-orry,” Tommy chanted breathlessly, head covered by his rake-thin arms. “P-please I’m so-sorry, I wo-won’t do it a-again.”

Dream’s foot slammed into his frail ribs and he was yelling and Tommy cried out through clenched teeth, not hearing, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears because Dream hated it when he cried and _Dream was just doing this to help him, he’d been a bad friend by running away and this is so that he learns his lesson._

But then Dream was hoisting him up, pulling Tommy right into his face and flicking out a sharp dagger with an engraved, silver handle. The tip dug into his cheek, just below his eye and Tommy went very, very still, not daring to so much as _breathe._

“You see this?” Dream hissed. A fearful nod. “The next time you pull a stunt like that, I’ll stick this in _both_ of your eyes. Do you understand me?” Tommy’s head spun. _~~Friends didn’t threaten friends with blindness! Friends didn’t hurt him and Dream was hurting him!~~_ “I asked you if you understood me!” he bellowed, and Tommy shuddered, accidentally moving enough for the tip of the blade to draw a thin line on his cheek that stung in the open air.

“I u-underst-stand!” Tommy yelped.

He let go and Tommy fell to the floor, knees suddenly weak. “Good,” Dream breathed. “Good boy.” The dagger was put away and he knelt down, holding his arms out to Tommy in a hug. The boy’s skin crawled as he accepted it, breathing in the metal and the leather. “I just want what’s best for you. Technoblade obviously didn’t want you, did he? You know why?” Tommy shook his head, lip trembling. “Because you’re annoying, Tommy. But that’s okay! I’m gonna fix you up so everyone’ll like you again.”

The crooning words sent a jolt of something cold and hot through his stomach, and he wasn’t sure what to feel. “I-I—” He swallowed, sucking a breath in. “E-even Tubbo?”

“Even Tubbo.” There was a warm smile in Dream’s voice. “Come on. You have to rebuild Logsted. This time, I’ll be watching.”

Tommy couldn’t find the strength within him to protest, gingerly standing on his injured foot and pressing his lips together at the pain that shot through his body. “C-can I hav-have a healing p-potion?” he asked hopefully.

Dream sighed. “How about this. You build everything back up first and then, after I inspect, I can decide on whether or not you’ve earned it.”

“Th-thank you, Dream.”

“My pleasure, Tommy.”)

He stood now, reaching for the crutch he’d created roughly out of sticks. Phil had helped him make it, looking more than a little concerned and promising that he’d return with potions the next time. That was a week ago. Tommy’s leg hadn’t gotten much better under the tight wraps, throbbing with every second of every day, white noise to the constant cacophony of pain and fear that clouded his mind these days.

The tent was flimsy, but the air around was fairly balmy, sweet with the miasma of flowers that peppered the landscape in pops of colours. Logsted, despite his shitty building skills, looked pretty with the tent and the little hut for Dream he’d built out of birch logs. It was a place untouched by most people, himself and Dream being the only people to inhabit it.

It would be nicer if it weren’t for the pockmarked earth under his feet from previous explosions.

Every two days, Dream would ask for his armour and weapons, the meagre ones he made of wood. He’d throw them down into the hole without protest and take cover as they blew up in a shower of dirt and splinters.

Dream would then keep Tommy company as he went around and did his chores. Tend to the flowers and then to the small farm, do repairs on his tent, clean up the path, wash his clothes in the freshwater lake nearby, sometimes even going to hang around the cows that lived nearby. Simple things that took hours and hours with his foot out of commission.

It was fine. Dream sometimes gave him regen and let him eat a bit more than usual to make it heal faster, though Tommy couldn’t quite get the look in his eyes, the ‘oh shit’ look that made his heart sink down to his stomach, that appeared when he examined the limb.

(Dream was frowning, staring at the inflamed skin and the beginnings of rot around the messy sutures. It looked badly bruised as well, dark, sickly purple wrapping around his whole foot like the fingers of some odd monster.

“Well,” Dream muttered on the exhale, “not as bad as I thought it would be.” Tommy brightened again. “You just need a few more weeks to let it heal, is all.”

“Tha-thank you Dr-Dream!”

He leaned over and ruffled Tommy’s hair, sighing at the way he flinched away.

_Look what you’ve gone and done now! You made your only friend sad!_

“Take it easy, Tommy,” Dream instructed. “I’ll bring you broth.”

He left Tommy, lying in bed and staring up at the flickering lantern that hung from the ceiling with a soft hum as he waited. The tent flap lifted after a while, and Dream strolled in, clutching a bowl which he set aside carefully before helping Tommy sit up. He hadn’t been expecting for Dream to feed the broth to him, but he wasn’t complaining.)

Sometimes Dream was nice. On the days Tommy decided to listen and obey, he was good. He didn’t get mad easily, it was just Tommy’s annoying habits. He understood that.

Tommy’s gaze turned skywards, squinting in the light of the morning sun. It couldn’t have been more than four hours past sunrise and he already felt exhausted. That couldn’t be right.

He spared a cursory glance at the sloping hill that dropped sharply off the edge into jagged rocks below it. Waves crashed against them, brutally ripping anything they found alive to shreds in less than a few minutes. He shuddered a little, curling into himself tighter. Phil usually landed there, it being the highest point of Logsted, but it seemed he wouldn’t come today.

That led to the next question: what was there to do today? His mind, a little fuzzy, staticky almost, white noise rising up from the background and trying to drown everything else out, couldn’t quite focus on what to do.

He sniffed, leaning on his crutch for a moment to run his fingers through his hair with a huff of frustration. First, he…first he would go and drink something. Preferably tea, if he could find any left-over leaves. But water would be fine.

(Phil had given him that box of tea leaves. “It’s mint,” he explained quietly, a wing draping over his shoulders as they sat together, under the Christmas tree, listening to a disk Phil had brought himself. The sky above was littered with hundreds and thousands of stars that he was never able to see in L’Manberg. “I thought you’d like something nicer than just bread and steak.”

Tommy had to blink fiercely to rid his eyes of the tears. He’d seen a box exactly like this one when he stole from Techno, sitting there in the chest, completely unused and wondered if Techno had known that Phil would give it to Tommy. He wondered if Techno would miss the mint tea.

He wondered if Techno ever missed him.

“Th-thank you, Phil.”

The older man ruffled his hair. “No problem, Toms.”

They sat together in silence, the peppy tunes of Chirp floating over the quiet of the night. And then Tommy finally asked the question that had been burning on his mind for the better part of three weeks.

“Why do-does Techno ha-hate me?”

Because there couldn’t be any other explanation for why Techno would just sell him out like that to Dream. There wasn’t any reason for Techno to never contact him again after that night, no other reason for him to never visit despite him living with Phil most of the time. There couldn’t be, and Tommy wanted to know why.

He wanted to know what he did wrong so he could fix it because Dream had told him that he kept driving people away and he didn’t want to be alone again. Tommy wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was completely alone.

When he’d looked up after five long seconds of silence, Phil looked absolutely stricken. Horror gleamed in those eyes, shiny now with tears. _Now you’ve gone and made Phil cry. Good going._

But his next words were surprising. “Tommy. Techno doesn’t-he doesn’t hate you at _all._ ” It was all said in a breathy whisper, disbelief edging the sentence and accidentally making it sharper. “He-gods, I don’t know _why_ he’d give you back when—” A short, humourless laugh. The wing around him drew him tighter to Phil’s side. “Tommy,” Phil murmured, voice breaking, “Tommy, neither of us hate you. We-we’re here for you. Techno was the one to send you that tea, I swear.”

“He di-did?”

“Mhm. Bastard is shit at showing it, but he cares about you, Tommy.”

“O-oh.”

The box seemed infinitely more precious now. More than any armour or weapon or tool anyone could give him.

A symbol of hope for Tommy. A whispered, traitorous thought that bounced around his skull mercilessly, filling him with an odd, nervous excitement. His hands shook, but it was from the adrenaline and not fear, this time.

Dream wasn’t the only person who cared, apparently. There were others. Of _course_ there were others.

He just needed to find them.)

There was a _ding_ on his communicator.

**_Ranboo whispered to you:_ ** _sorry, can’t come today. tubbo gave me a bunch of work yesterday and quackity will kill me if i don’t do it_

**_You whisper to Ranboo:_ ** _It’s oksy. Go do your workr and staty safe_

He wasn’t disappointed. Not at all. It wasn’t like it was Ranboo’s fault for not being able to come. And besides, who’d want to hang out with Tommy in little, lame Logstedshire?

(“You’re an idiot,” Tommy announced as Ranboo tripped over the fifth tree root on their walk through the forest. Even on his bad leg, Tommy manoeuvred them with an odd elegance to his limping gait. “Get b-better feet.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes playfully, smiling bright. It was easy to see that being a cabinet member was starting to take its toll on him. The circles under his eyes and his rumpled clothing painted a sad tale. But Tommy didn’t mention it in exchange for Ranboo not mentioning the bruising or scarring on Tommy’s body.

“How do you suppose I do that?” Ranboo asked lightly, ducking under a branch so he didn’t get hit by it.

Tommy shrugged. “You take an axe, you ask for a vo-volunteer and you go _chop, chop!_ ”

“That’s horrible, actually. I won’t do that.”

“You don’t have a choice here, ta-tall bitch.”

Ranboo snorted and Tommy couldn’t help but chuckle along. “Memory boy, tall bitch.” He shook his head in mock sadness. “When will the terrible nicknames end?”

Tommy poked at his chest gently. “Your fault for being-being so…so nickname-able.”

“That is not a word.”

“It is now.”

“You can’t just—”

“All words are made up. Tech-Technoblade told me so.”

He felt the air around him go all thick and sludgy and horrible at the mention of that name, felt his throat close up and his smile waver as the silence stretched on and on. Ranboo didn’t say anything. He knew. He’d been the first (and only) person Tommy told.

“So, uh,” Ranboo begun again, clearing his throat awkwardly, “you wanna go and, uh, fish?”

It was a hopeless clutch at straws, a desperate attempt to stop Tommy from spiralling, a thought that came from a panic induced need to lighten the mood that Tommy cackled at it, shaking his head fondly and elbowing Ranboo in the side. “Yeah. Let’s go fish, big m-man.”)

Things changed quickly in a week. Ranboo and Phil hadn’t shown their faces. Dream had though, which had kept him from going insane.

There he was, actually, leaning against the frame of the nether portal. Tommy sat up straight on the part of the wooden path he sat on, setting the cup of lukewarm tea aside in favour of leaping up hurriedly to go and greet his best friend.

_~~Not his best friend, not his best friend, that’s Tubbo you idiot, not Dream!~~ _

“Sorry I took so long,” were the first words out of his mouth as he came over to clap a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “You been doing alright?” He smiled. “You look healthier than before.”

That was good. Dream was smart and he could see a lot more than Tommy could. It didn’t matter that Tommy felt worse than he did before. That was just his head being all weird because of the loneliness. Now that Dream was there, things would be alright.

“I-I’m good. How-how are you do-doing, Dream?”

It always twisted something tight in his gut whenever sighed quietly. He knew it was the stuttering, the habit that he’d adopted a while back and had never let go of no matter how much he wanted to. He didn’t want to upset Dream by making him think that Tommy was afraid of him ~~he was~~.

“Alright.” A shrug. “Better now that I’m here. Anything for the hole?”

He shook his head truthfully. All he had was his mug and his crutch, both of which Dream had promised not to take away. “N-nothing.”

“Good. What’s on the agenda today, Tommy?”

Tommy didn’t know. His foot was bothering him, and his head felt all fuzzy and weird. As if it had been filled with cotton, the stuff pouring out his ears and nose and mouth like fuzzy words. Words that didn’t really exist in his minds, words that automatically came out without him knowing what exactly they were like the stuffing of a toy that spilled out when the seams holding the fabric together burst.

He liked that term. Cotton words.

“D-don’t kn-know.” He glanced around furtively, wishing that someone else were here to help him _~~get out get out of here leave it’s dangerous you need to~~_ ~~_leave_~~ with whatever chores he had to do. “M-maybe de-decorate?”

It was posed as a question because Dream vetoed his ideas sometimes. They were too unrealistic, too much effort, not productive enough. Decoration was not productive, but the Christmas tree still stood tall and powerful and wonderful, still there and alive and not gone yet.

Dream hummed. “With what, exactly?”

Tommy’s mind had his answer prepared, and the word came out in a burst of cotton. “Flowers.”

There were plenty of flowers in the forest and the meadow beyond. And all he’d need would be a wooden shovel. Flowers were homey. Comforting. They reminded him of Niki, and in turn, of L’Manberg.

“No.”

Dream’s brutal shut down of his idea startled him out of his head for a moment. “Wh-what?”

“I said _no,_ Tommy. You’re running low on wheat. You need to farm.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he imagined himself hunched over a badly made hoe, tilling the earth with shaky fingers as he tried not to collapse from the pain. Dream never helped.

He shouldn’t argue back. Dream hated it when he argued back. “Bu-but—”

“ _Tommy.”_ There was that dangerous note in his tone that made Tommy want to curl up and hide. “Don’t do this today. I’m not in a good mood.”

Tommy took an unsteady step backwards. “Dr-Dream, I h-have bread rea-ready in the ch-chests. I c-can go a day with-without farming.”

“No you fucking _can’t!”_ Dream snapped. Tommy flinched away, hands beginning to tremble violently. “God _fucking_ damn it, _every time_ I want you to do _something_ useful, you just _have_ to disobey me. Do you hate me, Tommy? Is that it? I can just leave if you’d like!” he snarled.

Tommy shook his head frantically. “No! No, my-my fo-ot hurts and I—”

“ _Oh,_ it’s about your fucking _foot,_ is it now?”

Tommy couldn’t breathe for a moment when Dream stepped too close. He forced himself to stay there, rooted to the spot, despite everything in him screaming at him to _run!_

“Dr-Dream, please d-don’t—”

A hand clamped firmly around his upper arm and Tommy jolted violently enough for his crutch to fall out of his hand as he tried to get away _get away get away._

Tommy registered being thrown to ground, tossed down like he weighed nothing (he did), gasping like a fish out of water as his hands scrabbled for a grip in the dirt. He needed to get up, rolling onto his stomach, nearly sobbing out loud as the _slice_ of metal through air hit his ears. Dream was going to kill him and Tommy didn’t want to die.

But then Dream was on top of him, one hand pressing him into the earth as the other roughly unwound the bandages, his blind panic causing him to kick out but Dream’s hold was strong and unwavering as his fingers prodded and poked and it _hurt he wanted it to stop because it hurt._

“You know,” Dream said icily, and the axe was picked up again as Tommy sobbed into the dirt, babbling out pleas for his life, for him to stop because he didn’t mean it at all, he’d do that farming, please don’t hurt him, “actually now that I look at it, your foot…” He laughed a little, something that sent shivers right up Tommy’s spine. “It’s too far gone, Toms.”

What did that mean? What did that _mean?_

“Y-you s-said you cou-could fi-x it!” he blubbered desperately.

Dream pat the space between his shoulder blades placatingly. “It’s infected, Tommy. Badly.” He sighed, maybe a little regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Sorry for what? What was he going to do? _What was he going to do?_

But he heard the swing. Heard it come down, all the way. Felt it sever through muscle and flesh and bone.

There was agony that he’d never known, agony that clouded up all of his thoughts, that ripped from him a scream which startled the birds from their nests, a scream that echoed around the empty air.

The silence afterwards was followed by pitch-black darkness as consciousness decided to leave him.

* * *

He awoke in his tent, alone and freezing, foot aching.

His toes didn’t wiggle. Why didn’t they wiggle?

Moving to sit up, Tommy whimpered as pain shot through his whole body, an electric shock almost. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

It didn’t take long to figure out what. Because when he pulled his covers back, his eyes scanned his right leg, trailing down the exposed, bandaged skin of his thigh, his knee and-and—

It stopped there. Below his knee, there was nothing more than gauze tightly wound around his stump. His _stump._

Tears leaked out of his eyes as bony fingers prodded at it, shaking violently as they did so as Tommy tried to hold in his cries. His foot was gone. His foot was _gone._ Dream cut off his foot and it was gone now. He’d never get it back. He’d never be able to run or play or climb or walk around properly again. His foot was _gone._

And for the second time, the sweet-smelling air of Logstedshire was pierced through with a shriek so full of anguish, that it shattered the peaceful air around.

* * *

“I’m going to visit Tommy,” Phil announced.

**TOMMY NO GO VISIT VISITBLADE COME ON TECHNO VISIT HIM HE’S SAD OH GOD LEG LEG GUYS FUCK DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

Techno nodded, stiffening in his armchair and _very_ aware of Phil’s searching stare that saw right through his damn bones. “There’s an old cloak on my bed. I’m too big for it now, so he might as well have it. Can you give it to him?”

**TECHNOCARE TECHNOBRO**

There was silence where there should’ve been an affirmation. “No.” Techno’s head snapped up as Phil got up and shook his wings slightly, feathers puffing up. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it was because Phil was angry.

“Why? It’s cold out there and—”

Phil spun to glare at him, right in the eyes. “You’re going to give it to him yourself.”

**DADZA STAN DADZA FUCK YEAH PHIL BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD KILL DREAM**

Oh. Techno gaped at him, trying to grasp for an excuse that could get past Philza himself, any excuse he could pluck out of mid-air. “I’m busy.”

“You sat around all of yesterday, _baking._ ”

**BAKINGBLADE HIS LEG IM GONNA CRY HELP HIM**

“ _He’s_ busy.”

“He’s bored.”

Techno gritted his teeth. “I’ll just drag you down. Better to go by yourself, it’s quicker.”

“It’s mid-morning. Won’t take more than an hour, mate.”

“I’m tired.”

“You didn’t seem tired when you announced you’d go strip-mining this morning.”

Techno’s fingernails dug into his palms in exasperation. “Tommy doesn’t want to see me,” he hissed.

**SADGE FUCKING FUCK I HATE IT HERE HEAD IN HANDS TECHNOVISIT HE LOVES YOU GO AND CARE ABOUT HIM TECHNOVISIT**

Phil paused at that. The determination in his eyes was replaced quickly by sadness. Deep, piercing sadness. “Mate. He’s been asking to see you.” Phil edged forward and gently rested a hand on his forearm. “You’re his _role model_ , Techno. He wants more than anything to see you.”

**DADZA DADZA DADZA DADZA**

Techno’s gaze stayed trained to the ground. “I did a shitty thing, Phil,” he rasped.

“I know. So go and fucking fix it, Techno.”

Oh, how he hated it when Phil pulled the logic card on him.

* * *

An hour and a half later, they stepped through the Nether portal that went straight into Logstedshire, Tommy’s new cloak resting on Techno’s arm now that they were close. His bag was filled with food on Phil’s insistence, as well as healing and regen potions.

He knew, as soon as he stepped out into the soft grass of Logsted, that something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what yet, until he lifted his head and sniffed.

Copper filled his nostrils, the sticky smell clogging his throat, dripping down to his stomach in the most unpleasant way. Techno pulled a face at it, coughing a little with how overpowering the stench was. Not just of blood, but rot. Misery.

**HIS LEG BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD FUCK HIS LEG GO HELP TOMMY PROTECTINNIT PROTECT YOUR RACCOON GO DO IT RACCOONINNIT KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

His hand shot out to grab Phil’s wrist. “Careful,” he growled, and Phil understood, eyes scanning the landscape for any hint of red and white.

Something terrible happened here. It was easy to tell. The two of them walked around, silent in the face of this ghostly place. Dead, but not quite. Alive only through the scattered chirping of birds and the flowers that pushed through the ash that covered the ground in a thick blanket.

What had _happened_ here?

**HORRIBLE TERRIBLE BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD FUCK DREAM KILL DREAM**

“Hello?” Phil called gently. “Tommy? I’ve brought a friend with me.”

Nothing. Not even the whispering wind bothered to answer Phil. Something wicked and gnarled grew in Techno’s gut. A feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter what he thought.

_Tommy’s fine. Tommy has to be fine._

It sounded like wishful thinking even to his own ears.

“Maybe he isn’t here?” Techno suggested lowly.

**HE IS STAY THERE HE IS GO UP GO UP TECHNO STAY THERE DON’T LEAVE HE’LL DIE OH GOD**

Phil shook his head furiously, bitterness present in his face. “He’s not allowed to leave. Not after…yeah.”

There was a Christmas tree, leaves waltzing in the gentle breeze. A tent that fluttered occasionally, revealing a hastily made bed inside. Dark brown stains covered the white sheets. There was a path that led to a small hut. The door swung wide open and no one was inside.

Phil tugged Techno over to a large landmark here, on this little beach. A sloping hill that seemed to drop off suddenly into the ocean. Together, wordlessly, they climbed it, Phil’s lips moving with prayers Techno couldn’t hope to understand.

Spongy earth beneath their feet, the setting was idyllic. A small, pie-wedge of a meadow, beautiful even in the unnatural silence that permeated the area. Unsettling as a ghost village might’ve been, but stunning nonetheless, sun shining down despite it all. No clouds to be seen.

And there, right at the edge of this precarious cliff, sat a small shape, huddled in a brown coat. His once-golden mop of hair sat dull, stringy, having grown out enough to curl around his ears. He was trembling. Techno could tell from here.

**TOMMY IT’S TOMMY OH HE’S ALIVE THANK FUCK OH GOD BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD KILL DREAM OH GOD HIS FOOT BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

“Tommy?” Phil called.

The boy didn’t answer, didn’t even look around. Panic filled his eyes, and Techno could hear the breath catch in his throat. “Tommy?” Techno tried. There was a small reaction. An almost-turn of his head. He stopped himself just in time. “I know you can hear us.”

Nothing.

**FUCK IT’S TOO LATE SAVE HIM STOP HIM TECHNOBRO PROTECT HIM TECHNOBRO**

Never did Techno think he’d see a day where he wanted Tommy to cuss him out, where he wanted Tommy to march right up and try to pick a fight. “Mate, can you tell us why you’re up here?” Phil asked hopefully.

A sniffle. Then a murmur neither of them heard. “You’re gonna have to speak louder than that.”

“…Took m-my leg.”

_What?_

“Who did, bud?” Phil pressed gently.

Tommy shivered. “Dr-Dream. My-my fo-ot’s gone now.”

**FUCK DREAM FUCK HIM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD FUCK DREAM I HATE HIM I HATE IT HERE BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD FUCK THAT GREEN BITCH FUCK YOU KILL DREAM KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD KILL DREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD**

Techno and Phil exchanged a cursory glance. “Come over here and we can deal with it properly, Tommy.” The desperation hardened Phil’s tone enough to make Tommy flinch away.

His gaze did not lift up past the horizon, staying down at the rocks below.

And, with terrifying clarity, Techno knew what he was about to do.

With a vice-like grip, he grabbed onto Phil, perhaps to grab his attention, perhaps for support before he fell.

**SHIT STOP HIM STOP TOMMY PROTECT HIM KILL DREAM**

“Phil,” he whispered. “Tommy’s gonna jump.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading this! next chapter should be out soon and will satiate all of your comfort needs hopefully :)
> 
> leave a comment because it gives me the happy chemical. you do not have a choice. please im desperate.


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